Despair

0 Comments

Tags:
  • Death

    Poem Commentary

    My nephew passed away a week ago. The family struggles to make sense of the loss but his wife is lost.
    I wrote this poem after the funeral. All her pain and despair was hard to ignore.

    In the end I hope she finds peace and comfort in her future.

    Despair

                             One person hurts so deep they
                                      can find no comfort.
                             The knock on the door was a life
                                    shattering experience.
                             The cold fingers of death wrapped
                                    around their heart.
                             The day ended in darkness as soon
                                     as it had begun.
                            
                      How can one person overcome
                           the depths of despair?
                      How can one person go on when
                           life lost all meaning?
                      How does one person survive without
                           their better half?
                      How does one person find meaning when
                            their world has none?

                                     Cut of sorrow was deep and
                                         the tears like fire.
                                     Eyes lost spark, voice lost sound,
                                         day lost light.
                                     No more meaning, emptiness
                                          total.
                                     Forging forward meaningless,
                                          nothing to hold for.
             
                       How does one person over come hurt so deep?

    Poem Comments

    (0)

    Please login or register

    You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
    leave comments/feedback and rate this poem.

    Login or Register

    The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

    Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

    Chaboom’s Poems (16)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    She Cries, She Screams, She Laughs 1
    Despair 0
    Believe 2
    Stay… 1
    Eighteen Years 0
    My Dearest Friend 1
    Late Night 0
    Emotions 0
    From A Mother 1
    Baby... 0
    Independence Day 0
    Open WIde 1
    Courage 0
    True Friendship 1
    Wreakage 0
    My Child 3